


Not Too Far

by Tonko



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonko/pseuds/Tonko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaya is ill, but the window is open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the hc_bingo challenge on Livejournal, for the prompt "pneumonia". Beta'd by the awesome [printfogey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/profile), and any remaining errors are mine.

Kaya remembered swimming... when she was little, when Mother and Father were still alive. Splashing in warm, clear shallows... seashells and driftwood and waves smoothing over the piled-up sand of the makeshift dams that protected the little castles she’d build on the beach...

She remembered once, too, losing her footing, going under where she hadn’t known it would be too deep. She’d been lost in the murk, hadn’t known which way was up, and had swallowed water. Merry had pulled her out in seconds, choking and crying. She’d thought she was drowning.

Maybe drowning was more like this, Kaya thought, opening her eyes briefly to consider the ceiling, lit with clear midday light. Couldn’t breathe deeply enough, not enough air to move... barely enough to think. Lungs filling with fluid, the doctor had said. Wasn’t that the same as drowning?

She didn’t remember the doctor’s last visit very well. Just an infection, Merry had reassured her afterwards, the tremble in his voice not very well hidden. “You will take your medicine and you will be fine,” he’d told her this morning, as he did every time he administered her pills and gave her the injection. He was good at that now, had learned quickly with Klahadore not yet returned from his urgent personal business. Dear Merry. She hoped his words reassured him as much as he was trying to reassure her.

Kaya coughed. It was a wet, thick sound, but she didn’t have the energy to turn her head and muffle it against the blankets.

Coughing made her try to breathe deeper. The sharp pains were familiar by now, not so terrifying anymore, nor was the struggle to master her breathing. If a fit persisted, Merry would come, and she didn’t want him to. She’d woken up now for a reason, after all. She always woke up now. It was almost that time. And the window was open again, for the first time since this infection had taken hold.

It was warm enough today, and the breeze was light. She’d exerted herself almost to tears insisting, wheezing and angry--Merry had finally capitulated, so very aggrieved and worried, but he simply didn’t understand...

The scrape of boots on the tree outside drew tears to her eyes again, but not in frustration now. She couldn’t see that tree branch from where her head rested, but at least part of the bed was visible from there.

“Resting, I see.” That familiar voice, light and a little rough, and she closed her eyes, felt herself smile. He was smiling too, she could hear it in his words. She could picture him perfectly, knew the way he sat on that big branch, the way his eyes brightened and his hands moved when he spoke. She tried to move a little herself, so that he knew she could hear him, at least. She lifted one hand enough to slide it in the direction of the window. “Aha,” he said just audibly, smile absent in place of fervent relief. His voice was shaky like Merry’s just for that moment, until he continued and the wide grin shaped his words again. “I know my presence is enough to cause even the most proud and confident of monarchs to feel faint, so I assure you, there’s no need for embarrassment. Now, speaking of monarchs, there was this king I met a few years ago...”

The story was long and rambling, and it was briefly interrupted--there were sounds of someone scrambling higher up the tree--by Merry coming to check on her. He touched her forehead carefully, and helped her drink some water. “You do seem to be breathing easier this afternoon, Miss,” he told her, adjusting her blankets again before he withdrew. “I suppose the fresh air has its merits. Please, continue to rest.”

When the door closed, the telltale rustling returned, and then the noise of someone settling comfortably back on the branch. “Right, where was I?”


End file.
